Swallowed My Crown Novels & Stories

The weight of her new reality settled heavily on her shoulders. Later that night, alone in her chambers, she removed the crown and jewels that had adorned her throughout the day. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she no longer recognized the woman looking back at her. She was a bride, a princess, a stranger in her own skin. …………

Prince Sigvard commented, “but not too sweet to the point that you feel like vomiting.” “Stop saying sickening things in front of the food.” Princess Akari reprimands him. Hannah just smiled at them. It looks like the young royals enjoyed eating what was served, making Hannah silently proud. “Hannah,” she looked at her right, where Clementine was sitting, “your kingdom is really beautiful. I fell in love immediately, even though I was still in the limo. Mountains and green places are everywhere. It’s attractive!” Her Dutch accent was visible as she said this excitedly.

I swallowed. Very.

My twin sister Celeste and I shared the same face, but little else. She believed in forgiveness. I believed anyone who hurt her should pay. Three years ago, Celeste was set to marry Adrien, Crown Prince of Valeria. But an old succession law forbade identical twins from both retaining legal identities once one entered the royal bloodline. So I chose my sister. My parents staged my death, erased Cassandra Montclair from public records, and promised to protect Celeste after I disappeared. I left her my fortune and the Crescent Guard, then vanished to the northern border. I believed my death had bought her safety. Then our dormant twin bond suddenly returned—and pain told me Celeste was being to

I had food smeared across my entire body in no time. Feeling smug and triumphant, Sally shoved me into the champagne tower. "You've provoked me again and again. Did you take me for a pushover?" I burst out laughing as I got to my feet. My hair was disheveled and dripping with champagne. My crazy appearance frightened the crowd. In a frenzy, I pointed at the driver and said, "Tell them who I am!" Then, I turned to Paula and pointed at her. "You too! Say it. Who am I, really?"

She wanted to free herself from his grasp but the moment she opened her mouth to speak, she tasted something metallic in her mouth. Out of nowhere, she suddenly felt too weak to stand on her own. The moment she almost fell to the ground, the king immediately wrapped his arm around her waist to support her. Leaning on his chest, Emery grimaced as she once again tasted that metallic taste in her mouth. The very next moment, she coughed out blood and stained the king’s royal robes. “H-His Majesty said this is his last a-act of kindness.”

“But the crown is not just mine. It is the kingdom’s. I cannot let personal ties blind me.” Her sigil pulsed one final time, bright and steady. The shadows bowed and dissipated. ⸻ The Crown Awaits The pedestal rose slowly, carrying the crown into the air before her. Light cascaded over her, warm and electric. The palace itself hummed approval. The trials were passed. Aera approached the crown, hand steady. This was the moment the seal had waited for. As her fingers closed over the metal, a voice echoed—deep, resonant, unmistakable:

I grabbed a handful of her hair and, amid her frightened screams, quickly snipped it into a ruined mess. She shrieked, "My hair!" I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Didn't you say you wanted to ruin my face earlier? To the point that no werewolf will ever look in my way again?" Julia's eyes snapped wide as color faded from her face. She tried to scramble back in terror. I took the crown box and opened it slowly right in front of her. The silver crown glittered under the lights, a cruel contrast to how disheveled and pathetic she looked.

It shimmered between worlds, and he could see glimpses of her, of the realm she walked. “She’s still fighting,” he said quietly. The Crown pulsed in his hand. He knew what he had to do. Callen had warned him: once worn, the Crown would mark him permanently. There would be no going back. But she was in there. He had to get her out. With trembling hands, John lifted the Crown. As it settled on his head, fire coursed through his veins. His knees buckled, his vision exploded into red light, and his soul fractured, then he stood in the Hollow, not as a guest, as a challenger.

I said, “then the crown is already rotten.” That did it. Chairs scraped. Voices rose. Anger surfaced